The Novel Diary: Week 70
Word count: 49,011 (total).
I thought about starting Chapter 7 (2.0) tonight, or perhaps Chapter 4 (2.0), but didn’t. Instead I put the finishing touches on my June recommendation for the LV, which was actually fun to write this time.
Though I love blogging about beer, I dread writing my LV recommendation. I have no clue why. Perhaps it is because I have to write it, have to meet the deadline. It is like, I imagine, a stomach ulcer: a tormenting discomfort one is always aware of. That is, I think, the most fitting analogy of how I felt as a reporter. The thought of a pending story — the interviews I needed to do and the words I had to write — always seemed to be nagging my conscience. It is one of reasons keeping me from journalistic writing.
I apparently have no love for novel writing, either. My novel is obviously missing one key element: motivation. As always, Hemingway comes to mind to mock me. He apparently wrote The Sun Also Rises immediately after the events of the novel took place. Bastard.
Hemingway probably did not play softball on Sunday nights. (He was too busy drinking and reading about horse racing and bull fighting.) Yep, softball season started two weeks ago but last night I played in my first game. (It was a double-header and we came away 2-0.) The first game was postponed by rain and I was in Chicagoland last week. Sundays will be iffy for novel writing from now on since games can start as late as eight o’clock, the time I prefer to start writing, but they can be as early as five. Each week will be a different story but I will hopefully make it through.
I thought about starting Chapter 7 (2.0) tonight, or perhaps Chapter 4 (2.0), but didn’t. Instead I put the finishing touches on my June recommendation for the LV, which was actually fun to write this time.
Though I love blogging about beer, I dread writing my LV recommendation. I have no clue why. Perhaps it is because I have to write it, have to meet the deadline. It is like, I imagine, a stomach ulcer: a tormenting discomfort one is always aware of. That is, I think, the most fitting analogy of how I felt as a reporter. The thought of a pending story — the interviews I needed to do and the words I had to write — always seemed to be nagging my conscience. It is one of reasons keeping me from journalistic writing.
I apparently have no love for novel writing, either. My novel is obviously missing one key element: motivation. As always, Hemingway comes to mind to mock me. He apparently wrote The Sun Also Rises immediately after the events of the novel took place. Bastard.
Hemingway probably did not play softball on Sunday nights. (He was too busy drinking and reading about horse racing and bull fighting.) Yep, softball season started two weeks ago but last night I played in my first game. (It was a double-header and we came away 2-0.) The first game was postponed by rain and I was in Chicagoland last week. Sundays will be iffy for novel writing from now on since games can start as late as eight o’clock, the time I prefer to start writing, but they can be as early as five. Each week will be a different story but I will hopefully make it through.
